Fallen Pride
by L-chan the Great
Summary: Gilbert was once a completely awesome soldier, but after an ambush during a mission, he finds himself as a slave to sweet little Elise.  His pride won't let him submit, but after finding his childhood friend also in captivity, he might not want to leave.
1. Chapter 1

**I know what you all are thinking. "What the hell are you doing writing another story, you idiot? Finish your others already!" Well, I can't blame you… But I reeeeeaaaaalllllllyyyyy wanted to start this! Based on a prompt for the Hetalia kink meme.**

**Also, for NaNoWriMo, wrote a story about made up countries in a made up world, which is sort of Hetalia-styled, except with a lot more angst and blood mixed in with the humor. A "dark humor" of sorts. Anyway, I was wondering if you guys would read it if I put it up. ^-^**

**Prompt: A human AU about a culture in which people who come of age get a freshly caught slave they can do whatever they want to. Liechtenstein, the daughter of a very well to do family, reaches this age and is presented with Prussia, a foreign officer and nobleman who was just captured in war between their countries. Prussia is very proud and not at all willing to submit to someone else's will but has little choice.**

**Smut is optional but would be lovely, especially if Liechtenstein is leading. If authoranon is feeling generous, some kind of plot would be nice as well. However, I'm mostly interested in seeing Liechtenstein in a position of power while Prussia has no free will.**

Elise knelt down in the grass, unaware that she was staining her new dress, peering into the rose bushes. Several fox kits were curled in the middle, where the mother fox seemed to be sure they'd be protected by the thorny branches. If they didn't hurt themselves, that is.

This was the first time Elise had seen a baby fox in the wild, let alone the four that were napping in that bush. She watched the gentle motion of the kits' breathing in their fragile chests. Her green eyes were wide with curiosity. How could their mother leave them all alone, where anything could reach out and pluck them away, or where the smallest shift in their sleep would paint their hiding place red?

"Elise! What are you doing out here?"

The voice made the girl jump. She looked up sheepishly as her older brother came to stand beside her, akimbo with a disapproving look on his face.

"Oh, hello big brother," she said shyly, her cheeks pink with the embarrassment of being found kneeling like a commoner.

Vash took Elise by the elbow, gently pulling the girl to her feet. "Look at you. Sheesh, you've gotten your dress all ruined again. Mother will be angry, you know," he scolded.

Elise looked at the ground, scuffing the ground with her shoes in shame. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, clasping her hands behind her back.

"What on earth are you looking at that have you digging around the dirt anyway?" Vash peered through the small opening in the leaves and saw the fox kits. He blanched. "Elise! You know that wild animals could be dangerous!"

She sniffed a little, swiping at her eyes quickly. "I'm sorry, big brother. They're just so cute… I couldn't help it," she apologized, sounding absolutely miserable.

Seeing that his sister was truly sorry, Vash's expression softened a bit. He brushed away her tears, smiling gently.

"Hey, don't cry. I'm just worried about you, you know that. I can't protect you forever," he said.

In a few weeks, Vash would be going off to fight in the war, as all first-born sons of noblemen were required to do. Remembering this, Elise looked up sharply, shaking her head vigorously so her blond twin-braids whipped about her head.

"Don't worry about me! I'll be fine!" she said earnestly. She didn't want Vash to get distracted by worrying about her safety while he was out fighting. If it was to keep her brother safe and alert, she'd try to be strong.

He smiled fondly at her determination. "At least I'll be here for your birthday, right?" he said, trying to lighten the mood.

It worked. Elise smiled brightly, nodding her head. "Yes! I can't wait! I'll finally get my own slave, like big brother did!" she said.

Vash shifted uncomfortably, remembering his slave. Having his own slave had been horrible right from the start. Not because he didn't _want _a slave, though, because coming of age and finally having a slave of his own had been a lifelong dream of his. His slave had been a fighter—stubborn and fiery right until the end. The slave had to be killed because of the many attempts made on Vash's life. The thought that his precious little sister might have a slave like that worried him.

"Let's go inside and get someone to change your dress," he said, mostly to change the subject.

Elise sighed and pouted. "Do we have to? Mother with lecture me for sure, and then Elizaveta will scold me for the same thing," she said, looking up at Vash with pleading eyes.

Usually, the adorable look would be enough to get Vash to do whatever Elise wanted. Unfortunately for Elise, he was ready for this and quickly averted his eyes. "Yes. I'm sure Elizaveta won't be too harsh on you. As long as the stains aren't permanent, that is." He eyed the dark green blotches on the otherwise solid pink dress his sister was wearing.

Vash led the resigned Elise inside. A tall maid with her plentiful brown hair tied back with a plain bonnet appeared almost immediately. Both siblings jumped at her materialization.

"Ah, Elizaveta, I was just looking for you…" Vash began, but was pushed out of the way as the maid fussed over Elise's appearance, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

"Oh, Miss Elise, what am I to do with you? That dress was brand-new, sewn especially for you as a gift for your coming-of-age. Those stains look horrendous. I'm going to have to work to get them out right now. Come along now, Miss. We need to get you changed right away." The woman took Elise by the elbow, as if the younger girl's entire dress was covered in filth instead of only a couple grass stains.

Then Elizaveta's eyes traveled lower. "Oh, Miss, your shoes, too! Were you running around like a little peasant child? They're all scuffed! We'll need to get you new shoes as well!" she cried, as if messed up dress and shoes were the greatest crimes in the entire world.

Elise didn't have a chance to even apologize as she was swept down along the hall by the determined maid. She looked back at her brother with a look that plainly said 'I told you so' before she disappeared around the corner with Elizaveta.

Vash smiled nervously with a guilty wave until he could no longer see his sister. Then he sighed. It was just like Elizaveta to act like that. Although the woman was technically in service to them, she wasn't afraid to talk back to the siblings. Their parents allowed her to get away with it. After all, when Elizaveta was just a young girl, she'd assisted in caring for little Vash, and later Elise. Elizaveta had earned her freedom, and was now paid for her work. She stayed with the Zwinglis because she had no where else to go, her parents murdered a month before she was captured and bought as a companion to Vash.

He should have known there was no way Elizaveta would let Elise get away with any slight infringement of the obscure fashion rules of their country. Oh well, at least when Elise was with Elizaveta he knew his sister was safe.

"Be careful, Bruder. Don't do anything idiotic."

Gilbert grinned at his younger brother, whose face was creased with concern. It was just like Ludwig to get his underwear tied in a knot over him. He laughed and waved the younger man's worries away.

"Don't worry, Luddy! Your totally awesome older brother will destroy the other army _without _backup!" Gilbert boasted.

Ludwig paled, although Gilbert wasn't sure whether it was from the nickname or the thought of him rushing into battle without his squad there to help. "Please… Please don't go rushing off on your own again," he said. It was the closest thing to begging either had ever done.

"What are you worried about? The awesome me won that battle!" Gilbert said, offended by Ludwig's lack of faith in him.

"You nearly died from blood loss by the time we got there. It was a miracle you even survived," Ludwig pointed out.

The memory only made Gilbert thump his fist against his armor proudly. "But I survived! That only proves that Gott is on my side!" he said.

Ludwig sighed, slowly dragging a hand over his weary face. "Please, Bruder. I'll make all the wurst you want if you just let your squad back you up for once," he said.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. Now that was something to agree to. "All the wurst I want?" He grinned. "You're making a huge mistake, little Bruder. You know how much I eat."

The younger brother didn't say anything. He only held out his hand with a serious look set on his face. "Stay with your squad. Don't do anything rash," he said.

He took Ludwig's hand and shook it. "Hey, why so serious? I'll be fine, I swear," he said.

Ludwig nodded, looking only marginally relieved. After a while longer of reassurances, Gilbert finally convinced his younger brother that it was fine, that he'd be alright, and they're be reunited again soon to continue kicking some serious ass. And thus they parted ways—Ludwig to the rest of the platoon, probably to write some letter to his dear friend, and Gilbert to meet up with his squad.

The three others in his small troop were waiting for him a short walk away from camp. All around them, trees stretched high into the sky, as if reaching greedily for the moonlight. It made the night in the forest—which was the only barrier between their country and the enemy's country—so very dark. If Gilbert wasn't as awesome as he was, he'd admit that the forest—with the sparse silvery light poking weakly through the canopy and the immense silence that threatened to swallow them whole if they doubted themselves for a single second—was disconcerting, if not downright frightening.

But of course, Gilbert _was_ too awesome for that, so of course it was exciting as hell, and not scary at all.

Nope, definitely not.

He shivered. Ok, maybe he was slightly afraid. But definitely not by much!

"It's nice of you to show up, Gilbert. I was starting to think you took your brother and ran away," a tall brunette man said, his voice dripping with biting sarcasm.

Gilbert only allowed a scathing grin. "Cool it, Roderich. I'm not a coward like you, who runs away the second they come across the enemy," he said mockingly. The two other men snickered.

Roderich stiffened and adjusted his glasses, very much like the prissy aristocrat that he was. "Just because I'm not an ignorant warmonger like you, doesn't mean I'm a coward," he informed Gilbert, trying to sound proper and dignified.

He looked to his friends, not sure what Roderich just said. 'Warmonger?' he mouthed. The blond only shrugged, while the green-eyed man next to him gave Gilbert a vague, puzzled smile.

Unfortunately, Roderich immediately picked up on Gilbert's confusion. He smirked, crossing his arms smugly. "It means you're an idiot who likes to fight. Which is true," he informed the rest of the group.

Gilbert hid his embarrassment with another grin. "Well, at least I'm not a total wuss who plays piano."

"It's a dignified pursuit of geniuses!" Roderich blurted out indignantly.

"Ja, ja, whatever. You still got your ass kicked by a girl." Gilbert froze as he realized what he just said.

Roderich's cheeks reddened, but not from indignation. "Shut up! Leave Elizaveta out of this!" His voice was full of hurt, vulnerable.

Gilbert looked down and actually complied. He felt bad for bringing Elizaveta up. Both Roderich and Gilbert had been friends with Elizaveta since they were babies. Well, their parents had been friends, and so they hung out together on an almost daily basis. In fact, Roderich and Elizaveta had an arranged marriage for when they became of age, even though they were cousins. It was more like they were second cousins, however, and it was very common anyway.

But then Elizaveta's entire family was captured and presumably wiped out when the girl was just seven.

The blond man sensed the tense atmosphere. He hadn't known Elizaveta personally, but knew how much her disappearance upset his dear friend. Biting his lip, he remained silent and turned to the curly-haired man next to him. The man—

Antonio—obviously sensed the suddenly-tense atmosphere, and was shifting his weight around uncomfortably.

Unfortunately, Antonio obviously didn't have enough good sense to follow Francis's example.

"Well, ready to go, everyone~?" Antonio announced suddenly. And then, "Ow, Francis, that really hurt!"

Francis had elbowed Antonio in the ribs. Not for breaking the mood, however. "You nearly cut off my head!" he growled.

Antonio blinked, then looked down. He seemed to notice his outstretched arms, thrown open in obvious excitement, for the first time. The axe that he was holding had swung over Francis's head, barely missing the man by centimeters.

Luckily Francis had good reflexes.

"Ahaha, sorry, Francis~!" Antonio apologized, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

Francis narrowed his eyes. "You don't sound too concerned that you almost killed me," he accused.

"Anyway~!" Antonio moved on, ignoring the accusation completely, thus confirming Francis's suspicions. "Ready to go, everyone~?"

Roderich barely moved in response, his eyes staring off into some far-off space. Through some huge effort, Gilbert pulled himself together and met Antonio's eyes with a grin.

"Of course! Let's go plunder some villages and capture some slaves!" Gilbert said, punching his fist into the air with a burst of determined energy.

Francis sighed as Antonio mimicked the move, an insane grin splitting the brunette's face. "Yay~! Burn and conquer and kill~!" Antonio cheered.

Gilbert turned to Roderich, his expression softer and less mocking than before. "Ready to go, Roddy? Your last mission!" he asked, trying to tease his distraught friend back to the present. After tomorrow, Roderich would be returning to life as an aristocrat, while the other three would continue serving in the army as volunteers.

Roderich blinked a few times and slowly turned his head to look at Gilbert. After a couple seconds more, he nodded firmly. "Right, let's get on with it," he agreed.

And so the three set off, Gilbert teasing Roderich and getting yelled at for it, Antonio singing "Burn and conquer and kill~!" over and over, and Francis wondering how the hell he'd ended up with such psychotic friends.

In an hour, they arrived at the edge of the first village on their way to the heart of the country. Their mission was simple—cause as much chaos on their way to the capitol before the rest of the army catches up. Meaning that they would do exactly what Antonio was singing about—burn, conquer, and kill. No big deal for the awesome Gilbert.

"Ok then, let's figure out a plan of action," Roderich began. Gilbert cut him off.

"No way! We're just going to set fire and terrorize the townspeople! We don't need a plan for that!" he said.

"Sí, let's go already! My axe is thirsty for blood!" he said, swinging the axe he held experimentally.

Even with all the gore the other three soldiers had seen, it still unnerved them to hear the gleeful way Antonio talked about killing.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence (other than Antonio's singing), Roderich cleared his throat loudly to get their attention. "Either way, we should at least come up with a plan just in case one of us gets captured," he said reasonably.

"Ja," Gilbert said. "If you get captured, keep your unawesome mouth shut about the military, and the rest of us, don't get captured or you're on your own!"

"Sounds good to me~!" Antonio concurred, hugging his axe.

Francis shrugged. "The first part is good, and the second part seems logical," he said.

Roderich huffed. "Well, if rescuing them is a possibility, we should at least try!" he protested.

"You're just saying that because you're afraid you'll be captured, Roddy," Gilbert teased, grinning.

"I am not!"

"Either way, can we please hurry before I fall asleep watching you two argue?" Francis demanded, placing his hands on his hips.

Roderich threw his hands up in exasperation. "Fine, fine! Just go charging in, see if I care!" he said.

"Yay, let's go, amigos~!" Antonio sang, already skipping ahead.

"Except, one more thing," Roderich said, much to everyone's despair.

"What is it now, Roddy?" Gilbert asked in exasperation. He was itching to find himself some beautiful women.

"If you see Elizaveta, don't hurt her," he said, looking down.

Gilbert immediately sobered. He nodded. "Right."

"Roddy's cousin? Got it~!" Antonio called back, almost to the outskirts of the village.

Roderich glared at the man ahead of him, but he was too far away to say anything to Antonio about the nickname. Gilbert snickered, proud of the trend that he had started. The trio followed after the insane axe-wielding man. Suddenly, Antonio stopped in his tracks.

"Hey, what's up with you?" Gilbert called.

Antonio spun around. "Amigos! Go back!" he called to them.

Before Gilbert could question Antonio's words, a line of soldiers separated them from their companion. They jumped back, pulling their swords out. Gilbert looked back, and saw that the way they had come was also cut off by the soldiers. They were surrounded.

"Verdammt. How unawesome to get caught like this," Gilbert cursed vehemently.

France backed up until they stood back-to-back. "I guess the three of us are going to have to rescue each other after all," he said.

Roderich huffed as he joined the other two, sword at the ready. "Like I said, we should have come up with a plan."

"Oh, stuff it, Roddy. We'll get out of this, plan or no plan," Gilbert said with a confidence that he didn't feel.

Scheiße, they were _so _screwed.

**Translations:**

**Bruder: Brother**

**Gott: God**

**Ja: Yes**

**Verdammit: Damn it**

**Scheiße: Shit**

**Sí: Yes**

**So, sorry if the end seems rushed. Don't expect this to get updated too much either. It's just something I decided to do whenever I felt like it (ok, I know I said that about the last story I decided to do on a whim, ahaha, but seriously…).**

**Please let me know in a review how you liked this story and if you'd read the one I mentioned in the A/N at the top of this page!**

**Ciao~!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, so I realized that most people use the name Lili for Liechtenstein. And I admit that this is a very pretty name for such a delicate and sweet personification. But I used Elise last chapter, and I'm sticking with it! So… Yeah.**

**Anyway, here we are with chapter 2. Looking up the language in Switzerland, I found that the official is German, but I'm not going to change their German-less dialect from last chapter.**

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><p>Gilbert still couldn't forgive himself. He couldn't believe he was so stupid as to just <em>walk <em>into a damn ambush! How unawesome was that? Now he was sitting in a dark little room filled with other prisoners of war, just waiting to get shipped off to a slave market to be sold to some rich bastard. And there was nothing he could do about it.

His upper lip curled into a snarl as he hooked his fingers through the metal band wrapped around his throat, marking him as a prisoner. It was uncomfortable and chafed at his skin (although constantly tugging at it probably didn't help that much). Damn collar, damn prison, damn war, damn everything!

"No matter how many times ya pull at it, it ain't gonna break," some man wearing his country's military outfit said, grinning a toothless grin, without a bit of humor.

This fellow soldier, whom Gilbert did not recognize, had said the same thing many times before over the past couple days that he'd been in captivity. Gilbert returned his words with a snide grin.

"What's an uneducated bastard like you know about that, huh?" he retorted. His pride wouldn't let him get talked down to by a man who was obviously a commoner.

The soldier gave a sarcastic laugh. "Bein' smart-like ain't gonna help ya now. We both gonna be slaves," he replied.

Gilbert couldn't come up with an argument to those words, so he said nothing. It was true. Any day now, the enemy would come into the room, round up the strongest, send those to the slave market, and kill off the rest. He didn't intend to be one of those they killed. As much as he'd rather die than submit to someone else, his little brother was waiting for him to return from his mission. And he was going to get back to Ludwig, damn it!

He wondered what happened to the other three. The only one he knew for sure about was Roderich and Francis being captured, just like him. However, the three were separated, and there was always Antonio, who had been past the site of ambush. For all Gilbert knew, Antonio could have already freed the other two, despite the plan to leave the ones who got captured behind. Antonio was just that kind of man. Underneath the creepy, 'let's kill _all _the civilians, ahaha~!" attitude, of course.

That was one man who truly loved fighting. Or, more specifically 'slicing all the weak little things to ribbons and wash my axe with their beautiful red blood' (Antonio's words, not Gilbert's). They had had some great times, though—him, Antonio, and Francis. In their respective mansions, and the villages around them, they were a terrifying trio as children, then the most hated three as teenagers (but only by fathers when they found one of the three bedding their daughters), and a slightly respectable (if not slightly unhinged) trio of young adults.

Really, it was only Francis that the fathers of the villages had to worry about. Antonio had grown oblivious to the ways of _l'amour _(as Francis called it, mostly to seduce women with his romantic language), and only thought about killing the enemy country's people, soldier or not. Lately he had been paying some attention to Lovino, whom his parents had quasi-adopted when the village he'd lived in was attacked, leaving him an orphan. Totally unawesome brat, as Gilbert saw the hot-tempered boy. But that was Antonio for you, he _never _made sense anymore.

As for Gilbert, he had devoted himself to the cause that was his country. He was fiercely proud of the place he was born and raised, and vowed to protect it no matter what. So he had remained in the army, even after his conscription was over. It was the same sense of duty that was instilled in Ludwig, and although Gilbert's younger brother was still doing his mandatory service in the army, Gilbert knew his brother would remain in the army long after it was over.

Gilbert felt so proud to have such an awesome younger brother.

The door of the tiny room swung open, and a gunshot resounded, startling Gilbert out of his thoughts. Those that had seemed ready to rush whoever opened the door drew back, unwilling to risk their lives for freedom. Gilbert sneered at the sight. Spineless cowards! Didn't they know that if they all went at the guard all at once, only one, maybe two, would die and everyone else would escape?

He wasn't going to say anything. It was obviously a wasteful effort to try and tell these uneducated idiots how to escape from prison.

"Everyone line up! No funny business, or you'll be shot!" the guard barked. It was all Gilbert could do not to laugh. The guard seemed like a weakling, reassured by the chains and lack of weapons the prisoners had. If Gilbert didn't have to get back to Ludwig, he would have taken the guard without anything but his bare hands.

As it was, all the prisoners were led outside and lined up along a concrete wall. Gilbert leaned against it experimentally, but it held fast. He supposed it didn't matter anyway. Even if the wall could easily give away, he was chained to the people to the right and left of him, and they both seemed like men who would slow him down.

He was right in his assumptions that the men to his immediate left and right were weak. When the another guard stationed at the prison walked down the line to assess the strength of the former soldiers, both were unlocked and dragged away to a steadily growing group of men who would be killed. When the guard passed him, Gilbert fixed him with a fierce, steady look that made the man look away. He felt proud, despite his situation—even locked up, and without weapons, he still intimidated the guards in a much more advantageous position.

The prisoners were forced to watch as the 'weaklings' were, one by one, shot in the head. Gilbert maintained a fierce glare, holding himself erect and proud, but inwardly he cringed. Not from fear—he was a strong soldier of his great country; he didn't feel such weak sensations like fear—but from the sense of compassion that his mother always instructed him to feel for his fellow citizens. Some of those men were young; probably boys who just turned military age, in their first years of service. He pitied them. They didn't even get a chance to die for their country—killed in a prison camp. Gilbert would make sure that if _he _was killed in the next few weeks, it would be while escaping, not because he was picked off like some worthless cattle.

There were only a handful of them left—a quick headcount told Gilbert that there were only six men worthy of being slaves, including him. Apparently living in a prison camp for an indefinite amount of time was a serious drain on a man's strength. The six of them were chained up to each other, and a guard again walked down the line, tying blindfolds around the eyes of the men. Gilbert bared his teeth furiously. He knew that the blindfold wasn't so that they wouldn't see where the slave market was—after all, there was no point of that, since they were already deep in enemy country. No, it was to make them vulnerable and dependant on the guards to lead them safely.

When they got to him, Gilbert stood as tall as he could, towering over the shorter guard. No matter what the guard did, he couldn't reach the soldiers head enough to tie the blindfold securely. Gilbert allowed himself to mentally celebrate the small, if insignificant, victory as he glared down at the guard.

"Hey, help me out here!" the guard called to one of the others.

A man who was taller than the first (but not by much) came over. He entwined his hand in Gilbert's white hair and pulled his head down to an appropriate level. Gilbert actually growled at this, watching in satisfaction as the first guard practically jumped away. It made the subsequent loss of vision bearable.

They were led onward. It was difficult to fight the instinct to hunch over, arms held out to stop himself from hitting anything, but he did. He did, however, and won, walking just as straight as he normally did. The chains tugged him forward and back, and the others in the line either fell or stumbled. Gilbert remained walking normal, refusing to let these worthless guards take away his remaining dignity.

After hours of walking (as he saw when they removed the blindfold and Gilbert was greeted with the setting sun), they finally reached a narrow alley. He could hear a crowd of people just beyond, in the market place, bustling about and shouting as they went from stall to stall, surveying the goods. It would be so easy to just break away and get lost among the thousands of people. Then again, he was chained to five others, so that would slow him down quite a bit. Looking up, he saw several men lying on the rooftops, guns pointed steadily at each of the six of them. Of course, that was why they were in such a narrow alley. It would be easy to pick each of them off if they tried to escape.

The possibility of escape passed and he was led inside and unceremoniously practically tossed in a cage. Gilbert picked himself up and sat with his back against the bars, facing the doors. He found himself in a single cage among a row of cages, each containing a soon-to-be slave. Virtually alone now, he inwardly groaned, dropping his head down to rest against his knees. He might as well get some rest…

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><p>"Oh, oh, Elizaveta! How about this one? He looks pretty strong!"<p>

Elizaveta eyed the man that Elise pointed out. It was true that he looked as strong as Elise said, but there was a tiny problem. Actually, it was a _huge _problem. This man in question was huge, with muscles bulging out of his shredded shirt. He had a mouth of large teeth and eyes set deep into his skull. In all honesty, this man was downright terrifying, even for her, and she considered herself a brave woman.

"No, no, no. He'll eat you alive, Miss," Elizaveta refused, taking Elise by her shoulders and leading her away from the slave.

Elise pouted, but nonetheless allowed Elizaveta to push her away. Her new shoes clicked against the concrete ground. "But you said I could have any slave I chose, Elizaveta," she said accusingly, playing with the folds of her dress (which Elizaveta had performed a miracle and removed the grass stains from last week).

The maid sighed lightly. "Well, I thought that you'd choose some nice, attractive man to keep around, like most girls your age do," she said.

"But I'm sure he was cute on the inside," Elise protested.

"He would have torn you to shreds, Miss Elise!" Elizaveta told her. She steered Elise down a new row of cages. A flash of white hair caught her eye, filling her with a sense of nostalgia.

"Um, are you ok, Elizaveta?" Elise asked.

Elizaveta hadn't noticed that she stopped. She looked down at Elise with a reassuring smile. "Oh, it's nothing, Miss Elise. I just thought of something. Now let's go find you a nice suitable man for your slave, yes?" she said. She took Elise by her shoulders again and spun her around.

"Elizaveta? Is that you?" the young man spoke up, stopping her in her tracks.

The voice sounded so familiar. It had been many years since she last heard it, and it had matured and mellowed out some, but it was unmistakable. She slowly turned back and raised her green eyes to meet shockingly red eyes.

"G—Gil…" She caught herself, slapping a hand over her mouth.

Elise looked from the maid to the albino with a puzzled look on her delicate features. "Elizaveta? Do you know him?" she asked.

Elizaveta looked down to her charge. "N—no, I don't. Let's go, Miss Elise, I'm sure there's someone around here somewhere for you," she said. She began to walk away, shoulders stiff.

The younger girl started to follow Elizaveta, but stopped. She looked back to the albino, who looked like he saw a ghost. Curiously, she walked up to the bars, absently playing with one of her twin braids. The man wasn't looking at her however, his eyes fixed on Elizaveta's back.

When Elise didn't follow her, Elizaveta turned back. "Miss Elise? Come along, let's go," she said.

Elise shook her head. "No, I found my slave," she said.

The man looked at her in disbelief. "Are you serious?" He didn't sound exactly happy to be referred to as a slave. She ignored him.

Elizaveta shook her head. "Miss Elise, I don't think that's a good idea. He's not good news, trust me." There was a note of hysteria in her voice that Elise just didn't understand.

"Elizaveta…" The man's voice was quiet. Elise was sure that she could detect a note of betrayal.

Elise stood as tall as her small body would allow. She wrapped her hand around the bars of the cage. "I want this one," she said, trying to inject as much strength into her gentle voice as she could.

The maid opened and closed her mouth, unable to figure out what to say to change the young girl's mind. She looked from Elise's determined face to the man's bright red eyes. She sighed in defeat.

"Very well, Miss Elise. I hope you don't regret this."

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><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

**French:**

**l'amour-** love


	3. Chapter 3

**Aiyaa, for the past couple weeks, I have had absolutely no life because of academic decathlon (google it if you want to know what that is, ehehe). But it was worth it. Our team got 3rd place and I won 1st in this year's SuperQuiz topic! It was imperialism. :D**

**Anyway, I finally have time to write more/do real schoolwork. So here we go!**

**Also, I was _going _to post this on the LiveJournal thread. I made an account and everything. But… That site honestly confuses me a bit. Ahaha. ^-^; Don't judge… So I'm not going to post it up there. Sorrrrrrrryyyyyyyy!**

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><p>Walking through the crowded streets, away from the slave traders, Gilbert had never felt so confused in his life. He was defenseless, a collar round his neck, and the chain in the hands of a thin little twig of a girl that wasn't even half his size. To make it worse, he was finally reunited with his long-lost childhood friend, and she walked several strides ahead of them, pretending that he didn't even exist. That was the most bewildering thing about the situation.<p>

This was so not awesome!

As Gilbert pondered on the cold shoulder Elizaveta was giving him, the little twig spoke up, breaking his headache-inducing thoughts.

"We're going to go see my big brother. He's very worried about me being safe when he goes to the war. You look very strong, so he'll be very glad!" she said, then gave him a smile sweeter than Elizaveta's.

Gilbert turned his head away from the child's disgustingly sweet smile. Damn right he was strong, but he was more likely to snap the trusting thing's neck the second her back was turned. He allowed himself a small smirk at the thought. If this girl was so naïve, escaping from the house would be a cinch!

Just then, Elizaveta stopped so abruptly that a few people that had separated him from her nearly bumped right into her. They brushed past roughly, mumbling a few rude remarks. Gilbert started forward angrily, wanting to punch them for being so rude to his dear friend, but then he felt a sharp tug on the chain. He stopped, more from surprise than actually being forced to stop, and looked back at the girl. She was looking up at him with a surprisingly stern look. It was mild compared to the kinds of looks Gilbert saw in the army, but it seemed out of place on her delicate features.

"Please don't try and go ahead without me," she said; her voice like honey. She tugged the chain again to remind him of her power over him.

Gilbert turned his whole body toward her, standing tall. There was no way she was going to make _him_, the awesome Gilbert Bielschmidt, to submit! He was about to make sure she knew this, too, until a hand fell on his shoulder.

He turned to see Elizaveta inches from his face, and was taken aback by the furious look in her eyes. "E—Elizaveta?" he stammered, surprised and nervous.

"Don't try to intimidate Miss Elise, or I'll personally make sure you _deeply _regret it," she said.

That made Gilbert fall silent immediately. He looked back at the girl—Elise, she was called. Elise was smiling gratefully at her maid, twirling a thin braid around the finger of her free hand. "Thank you so much, Miss Elizaveta, but I'll be fine, I promise!" she said.

Elizaveta smiled fondly at her. "I hope so, young miss," she said doubtfully.

The exchange confused Gilbert to no end as Elizaveta turned and continued to lead the way. Wasn't Elizaveta a slave, like him? She was kidnapped from her home and brought here. How could she possibly want to protect the people who took away her freedom?

As if the tiny girl, looking up at him with a thoughtful gaze this entire time, read his mind, she told him, "Miss Elizaveta is a very important person in our family. She's like a big sister to me." Elise beamed as she said this, the seemingly fragile appearance returning.

Gilbert laughed dryly. "Right, sure, a slave is like family. That's funny," he said sarcastically.

Elise's lips twisted into a pouting frown. "She is not a slave anymore. My family freed her a long time ago," she said in a scolding tone.

This new piece of information shocked him. "What? Why would she stay here then?" he said, unable to hide his surprise.

"As I understand it, she has no more family in _your _country," Elise replied. There was obvious disgust in the way she forced herself to reference Gilbert's home country. Normally, he would have hit the condescending girl with all his strength, but he was too preoccupied with Elizaveta's preference for serving a slave-owning family than returning home to him and (although he didn't want to think of it) Roderich.

"Bullshit. Of course she has a family," Gilbert returned quietly, more subdued with these new thoughts. Although Elizaveta didn't have parents or aunts or uncles or the like to return to, he and Roderich were as good as family. Right?

Elise said no more, taking what her new slave said in with quiet consideration. She knew that there was something between him and Elizaveta. That would be the only reason that Elizaveta reacted so negatively to choosing Gilbert as her first-ever slave. In hindsight, that was probably a little mean, she thought with gnawing guilt. She didn't want to make Elizaveta—her nanny and ever-loving sister figure—uncomfortable in any way.

Yet, so far it didn't seem like something horribly bad had happened, or Elizaveta wouldn't have given in so quickly to Elise's decision. At least, she hoped that it was true. She consoled herself with that possibility.

She was just too curious now! And she didn't know it then, but Gilbert was just as torn inside with curiosity over Elizaveta's strange behavior.

* * *

><p>They were in the coach, on their way back to the Zwingli mansion. Gilbert watched Elizaveta the entire time, hoping desperately to make some kind of eye contact with her. However, she stared steadily out the window, obviously determined not to fulfill his wish. Elise was currently insensible to them both, preferring to gaze outside as trees and bushes and all kinds of springtime scenery flew past them.<p>

"Hey, hey, Miss Elizaveta. Everything is just so lovely, isn't it," Elise broke the melancholy, her eyes wide and excited.

Addressed by the young girl, Elizaveta deigned to finally look away from the window, still avoiding Gilbert's eyes. Her green eyes as warm as the blooming flora, she smiled. "Yes, it is," she said.

"Spring is still your favorite season, huh?" Gilbert sought to interject. He remembered when they were children. Every year, on the first day of spring, Elizaveta would drag both him and Roderich out way early in the morning, just so they could be the first to gaze on the beauty, newly woken from its winter slumber. It was one of those rare moments when Gilbert was reminded that the tomboyish Elizaveta was actually a girl.

Unfortunately, his innocent question caused the opposite effect than he had intended. Indeed, she finally locked eyes with him, but they had frozen with heavy suspicion and wariness that Gilbert was at a loss as to what he ever did to merit it.

"Yes, it is," she said, her voice just as icy as her eyes.

Elise shivered, as if physically affected by Elizaveta's frosty attitude. "Miss Elizaveta?" she said uncertainly.

Elizaveta shook her head sharply, as if to cast off the dreadful spell of negativity cast over her. Countenance thus softened, she once again looked at her charge. "Oh, Miss Elise, move away from the window, or someone dangerous outside may see you," she said.

"Aw, but it's so pretty, and dangerous people would stop the coach anyway, because it's a rich family's coach," Elise returned with a pout, but she obliged anyway, moving closer to Gilbert.

For a moment, Elizaveta seemed to be about to add that 'dangerous persons' included Gilbert, but then thought better of it, dismissing the idea with a shake of her head.

They rode on in silence for some time more. Gilbert felt positively uncomfortable, what with sitting across from his childhood friend, with her strange behavior, and his enslaver now sitting so close to him that their arms touched. However, there was honestly nothing he could do at present—the coach door was on the other side of this tiny slip of a girl, and he had the feeling that Elizaveta was plenty capable of encumbering him until the other attendants stopped his escape.

He just needed to bide his time, and hope that one of the dangerous people that Elizaveta was afraid of actually stopped them.

After a while longer, his wishes actually came true.

The coach stopped abruptly, making its occupants jerk forward, and Gilbert nearly fell into Elizaveta's lap. He righted himself quickly, just as Elise stood up.

"We can't be home already," Elise said dazedly, moving to look out the window.

Elizaveta stopped her quickly, grabbing the girl's arms and pulling her close. The chain connected to Gilbert's collar slipped from her grip. "Don't move, Miss Elise. Perhaps one of the wheels is just broken," she said, hugging the tiny girl. The tremble in her voice said that she didn't think the reason they were stopped was for a broken wheel at all.

With the coach stopped, Elise no longer between him and the door, and Elizaveta's arms occupied with 'hiding' the young miss, Gilbert realized this was his opportunity to escape. He wrapped the chain around his hand, slid to the other side of the coach, and threw open the door.

"Gilbert!" There was an edge of hysteria in Elizaveta's voice, but he paid it no heed as he jumped out of the coach, landing in the dirt road, prepared to run.

He was immediately slammed into the side of the coach by one of the two men standing there, both much bigger than himself.

"Tryin' ta make a break for it, eh?" his assailant asked tauntingly.

On the ground, stacked in haphazard pile, were both of Elise's attendants. They were both probably dead, although Gilbert couldn't say for sure from this distance.

"_Verdammt, _I swear this is the second time I've been captured, right when I finally escape," Gilbert said in the driest way he could manage. What was wrong him today? Fine, getting captured once was one thing, but getting captured _twice_, without even properly escaping before the second time was another thing entire. Totally _not _awesome.

"Hey, it's just a slave. Let 'im go, he won't stop try ta stop us," the second man said, with absolute certainty that Gilbert wasn't a threat. For some reason, he felt insulted by that.

The first guy complied. "Get outta here. We're goin' ta have a word with yer masters," he said with a sadistic laugh.

The amount of bloodlust in the bandit's voice made Gilbert's blood chill. He shrugged it off. "Whatever. I just want to get back home," he said, but the bandits no longer paid him any heed.

The first man went inside the open door first, as Gilbert turned and strolled away. There wasn't any hurry now, since there wasn't anyone to stop him, unless the bandits changed their minds. His lack of urgency was his downfall as he heard the scream—the familiar scream of his dearest childhood friend.

"Stay away from her, you filth!" Elizaveta shouted in her bravest voice. She had pushed the tiny girl behind her, where Elise was practically smothered by Elizaveta's many skirt layers.

"That's no way fer a woman ta talk ta men."

"We were gonna just take yer money and leave ya be, but it seems we gotta teach ya a lesson first."

"I said stay _back_!" There was a sound of a hand striking bare skin as Elizaveta slapped one of the bandits, hard.

"Ow! Ya _bitch_!"

Elizaveta screamed again, this time in pain. Gilbert remembered the night their homes were attacked. Both his and Roderich's families came out of it relatively unscathed, however Elizaveta's family was murdered and she, the sole survivor, kidnapped. He had been helpless to help her at the time. Now he wasn't, but… But his freedom was just so close…

He heard the sound of ripping cloth and a fist striking soft flesh, followed by another scream from Elizaveta. His fists clenched and unclenched in his indecision. Maybe someone else would hear and come to their rescue. However, looking around, it was obvious that there was no one to hear them. He gritted his teeth. Damn it.

In the end, his pride—his damned pride—wouldn't let him just walk away when two helpless girls, one of them once a close friend of his, get attacked by two unscrupulous men.

Throwing away his new freedom, Gilbert spun on his heel and bolted back to the coach. Both of the men were inside by this time, and he had no trouble grabbing one by the back of his shirt and flinging him out. The man hit the ground with a surprised yelp, and Gilbert jumped inside the coach to take his place.

The other had a hold of Elizaveta's thick hair, and his arm was drawn back, frozen in place from confusion at the sudden loss of his companion. Gilbert took advantage of this, and flung his chain over the man's neck, pulling hard.

The bandit released his hold on Elizaveta, clawing at the chain that was suddenly obstructing his breath. They both stumbled backward. Gilbert maneuvered the two of them so that the bandit was first when they fell out of the door. The large man fell on top of the other, who was scrambling to his feet, and Gilbert landed on top of them both.

Now that his chain was trapped beneath this large man, and Gilbert with it, he had no other option other than to continue choking the bandit.

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite as easy as it sounded. With the element of surprise worn off, the bandit (the only one of the two conscious since the other was knocked out when he and Gilbert landed on top of him) managed to get to his feet. He backed up to slam Gilbert into the wall of the coach. The smaller man felt his head hit the wood hard, and stars burst in his vision. Somehow, Gilbert managed to hang on as the man repeated the process again and again and again, until the suffocating man could not muster up the energy to do so anymore. He sunk to his knees, and with a last claw at the chain in a desperate attempt for freedom, the last visage of life fled his person, and he dropped to the ground lifeless.

For a while, Gilbert couldn't get up either. He lay on top of the dead man, breathing hard, grateful to let the chain slack in his grasp.

"Gil?" He could have sworn that there was a note of concern in her voice, still breathless with fear of her close encounter.

He didn't move as he answered her. "Sorry, Lizzie, still alive," he called.

She let out a sigh of… relief? "Y—you saved us," she half-whispered.

"I can't be as awesome as I am if I let a woman get killed," Gilbert said, finally summoning enough energy to get up.

He looked over at her. She was looking at him with an expression of pure gratitude, holding her ripped skirts about her person. He felt warmth bloom in the pit of his stomach.

"You could have escaped. You still _can _escape," Elizaveta said with an air of disbelief.

Gilbert limped over to the coach. "I can't just leave you here. You might get attacked again," he said, checking the vital signs of the attendants. They were both dead…

Elizaveta saw the look on his face. "They're… dead?" she asked hesitantly.

He nodded, lips pressed tightly together. She looked away as he stood again and went over to the coach.

"Where is the Zwingli mansion?" he asked.

She gave him a look of alarm. "What? Why?"

"I'm going to take you two there so you don't get attacked trying to walk back," he told her, sitting on the coachman's seat.

Elizaveta frowned. "You won't be able to just leave when you get there. You saved us, but you're still Miss Elise's slave and bodyguard," she warned him.

He shrugged. "_Ja_, I figured that," he said.

Her expression warmed to such a degree that Gilbert thought it might melt his heart away. "Thank you. Thank you so very much," she whispered.

Again, he shrugged, looking forward. "Just sit back, and let's go."

* * *

><p><strong> What are you doing Elizaveta, trying to get a place in the plot? That wasn't supposed to happen. It was just supposed to be Elizaveta is the catalyst for bringing Elise and Gilbert together, and that's it… Oh well, let's see where she goes with this. You know how characters are, always wanting a main part. XD<strong>

** I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. This story has already become an adventure.**

** Anyway, until next time, ciao!**


	4. Chapter 4

** Finally I'm out of high school for good! Hopefully, even with my new job, I'll be able to update my stories much more frequently.**

** Anyway, I had to keep restarting this chapter, because I knew what I wanted to put, but at the same time I wasn't sure how to write it. Also, my summer hasn't been as full of free time as I'd like it to be...**

** The more I write, the stranger Gilbert's actions appear. But Gilbert is Gilbert—prideful as always, and chivalry is a part of that pride.**

* * *

><p>By now Gilbert wasn't sure if he was a masochist or just plain stupid. Maybe both. He was seriously beginning to regret his decision of staying behind to take the women back to wherever this "Zwingli mansion" was. Which, apparently, was deep in the middle of the forest, out of the way of <em>any <em>civilization and _completely _vulnerable. No wonder Twig Girl was looking for a bodyguard. They would be dead if it wasn't for him and his honor.

_Honor_… He was getting to be sick of the concept. His _honor_ wasn't going to get him back to Ludwig anytime soon. Obviously _these _people didn't have any honor, or they'd have released him from servitude once he saved their lives. No, that was wrong, he had to admit to himself. He _chose_ to remain behind. Which brought him full circle to the question: was he masochistic, stupid, or both.

_Verdammt_, if he didn't hurry and get back to his home country, his little bruder was going to give him one of those torturously long, boring lectures again. Gilbert shuddered at the thought.

"Something wrong, Gil?" Elizaveta asked warily. Oh, right, he'd forgotten she was sitting next to him.

Gilbert forced himself to focus on the present. He was sitting in the driver's seat, with Elizaveta, who had insisted on being next to him in order to tell him how to take the two of them home. At first he tried to get her to remain in the carriage with Twig Girl. Eventually, he realized the logic of Elizaveta's argument, although that didn't mean he liked it at all.

She was much too close to him. Her thigh was just barely touching his. The thought of his sent waves of heat through his entire body. Even though she had the torn skirt of her dress wrapped about her person and tucked securely underneath her, the thought that he could reach over and simply pull the ripped material away drove him wild.

"It's nothing!" he forced himself to say, perhaps a bit too loudly.

Elizaveta blinked, and when he glanced over, he was caught by her innocent gaze. His heart squeezed painfully. He had forgotten that, even when they were kids, although she wasn't a pushover by any means (she could kick his ass easily), Elizaveta had moments where she seemed so fragile and naïve that it tore at his heartstrings.

He looked straight ahead, trying to focus all of his attention on directing the horses, although he realized by now that the horses seemed to know which way to get back all by themselves, so they probably didn't need him at all.

"Come on, Lizzie!" He gave a loud, obnoxious laugh, attempting to mask how nervous he felt. "I'm Gilbert, the most awesome person in the world! There's nothing wrong with me at all! I'm too awesome!"

His outburst brought a small smile to her lips. Elizaveta giggled, despite herself, covering her mouth with her hand politely. "Oh, you haven't changed a bit from when we were kids!"

Gilbert huffed indignantly, inwardly triumphant over the sound of her laugh. "Are you kidding? I'm way more awesome now!" he said, drawing another laugh from her.

With that exchange, the awkwardness of the situation disappeared. Gilbert pushed away the regret that was nagging at the edges of his consciousness. He had his important childhood friend with him—someone who'd been like a sister to him for a long time. For sure, he was going to free Elizaveta from servitude as well and bring her back home. There was no way he'd let her remain in such a humiliating position.

He'd just have to endure the wounds to his pride for a while longer.

"Ah! There it is!" Elizaveta gasped, a confusingly delighted sound.

Although the happiness in her voice confounded him, her outburst was nonetheless unnecessary. The forest gave away so suddenly to a disorienting, gigantic clearing, a tall wrought-iron gate barring off a fractionally smaller garden surrounding the mansion that Gilbert would have to be blind to miss their arrival.

"Ja, I can see that for myself," he muttered, somewhat mockingly, but Elizaveta didn't hear his snide remark.

As he pulled the coach up to the iron gates, Gilbert couldn't help but think how similar this mansion was to his own. The style of the main building, from what he could see, was different, but it was just as large and as grand as his own home. The grounds were ridiculously large, unless you were a child playing hide and seek, and a fountain lay in the middle of the path, just like back home.

There was even a man standing at the gate, ready to let them in. Gilbert couldn't say this gatekeeper was even a guard, like his own mansion had. It was a scrawny, weak-looking brunette with a careless air. He was smiling goofily as the coach pulled up.

"Welcome home, Miss Elizaveta~!" he sang as they drew closer. Then he suddenly noticed Elizaveta's disheveled appearance, and Gilbert sitting in place of the attendants who'd left with the two women. His half-closed eyes snapped open in alarm, revealing bright, brown eyes.

"V—ve? Wh—what happened? Are you alright?" he asked as Gilbert jumped down to help Elizaveta off.

The woman smiled kindly, brushing her hair back behind her ear with one hand as she held her skirts with the other. "Don't worry, Feliciano, both me and Miss Elise are fine, thanks to Gilbert here. But the coachman is…" she trailed away, a deep frown forming.

Feliciano moved closer, concerned for her. "What's wrong, ve?"

Elizaveta waved him off, forcing a bright smile. "Never mind that, Feli. Just greet our new friend and let us onto the grounds," she said.

The smaller man (were all the people in this godforsaken mansion little twigs?) went to hide behind Elizaveta's skirts, but the woman moved away to help Elise out of the coach. Instead, he stood, shoulders tense and bowed. His eyes glanced over Gilbert once before moving to look at a spot over Gilbert's shoulder. This Feliciano person, who seemed too afraid to meet Gilbert's gaze, reminded the albino of a frightened rabbit he once cornered.

"H—hi. N—nice to meet you, ve…" Feliciano said, sounding like it actually wasn't so nice to meet him at all.

"Yo." Gilbert crossed his arms, turning his head to watch Elizaveta as she took Elise's hand and allowed the tiny girl to hop down, much like a mother did for a child.

Feliciano seemed to realize that Gilbert wasn't about to suddenly attack him. The nervous man looked up, hesitant.

After trying to ignore Feliciano's insistent gaze, Gilbert finally locked eyes with him. "What do you want?" he demanded.

The brunette man bowed his head, but didn't look away. "Why are your eyes red, ve?" he asked tentatively, as if afraid the simplest question would set off a violent urge in the stranger.

What was it with this boy and 've'? Gilbert leaned down, grinning broadly, so that their faces were inches apart. Feliciano squeaked, startled by Gilbert's sudden movement, and stumbled backwards, eyes wide with fear.

"Obviously my eyes are red because I'm a _demon_!" he said.

"D—demon?"

Gilbert cackled as Feliciano's body tensed, prepared to run off into the forest. Before either man could move, Elizaveta swept between them. She placed a soothing hand on Feliciano's shoulder and shot a scathing glare at Gilbert.

"Don't scare little Feli like that," Elizaveta reprimanded him.

He stuck his tongue out at her. "I'm here against my will," he reminded her. She rolled her eyes and turned to Feliciano.

"His eyes are red because he's an albino. In fact, he probably shouldn't be outside right now, or he'll damage his skin and eyes. But he's an idiot, so he never listens to helpful advice," she explained to him.

"Oh dear, really?" Elise gasped from her place beside Elizaveta, looking up at Gilbert with her eyes filled with concern.

Gilbert shrugged, disconcerted by the girl's attitude toward him. Everything would be so much simpler if she was just cruel and coldhearted like slave owners were supposed to be.

"I'm a soldier, so this kind of thing is no big deal." _At least, I _was_ a soldier,_ he thought with a wince.

Elise, however, didn't appear to hear him, or to notice his wince. She blinked rapidly, fluttering her eye lashes in that ridiculous way that wealthy girls always did. She made a movement, and for a second, Gilbert had the feeling that she was about to wrap her thin arms around his.

In the last second, she caught herself, however. With a slight blush of embarrassment for her habit, she awkwardly took hold of the chain instead.

"Let's hurry inside then! Come on!" she twittered breathlessly, trying to rush over her mistake. "Hurry, Feli, open the gate!"

Feliciano jumped, snapping out of some, no doubt, terrifying daydream involving Gilbert and demons (one that would probably become a nightmare that night). "Yes, of course, Miss Elise!" he said, assuming a cheerful attitude.

He opened the gates, and the trio went onto the grounds of the Zwingli mansion, while Feliciano took care of the coach for them. Elizaveta took the lead, her head frequently moving to each side, glancing about for any danger to her charge. Elise scuttled along almost on the woman's heels, like she was trying to become Elizaveta's shadow.

Strangely enough, Gilbert couldn't find any trace of nervousness or fear in Elise's closeness to the taller woman. He expected her to have the persona of a baby bird, quivering and tittering at the slightest noise, head constantly swiveling back and forth. Instead, she walked calmly behind Elizaveta, her eyes straying lazily to look at the things around her. When Elise looked his way, he saw that she had a dreamily content look on her face.

Although he couldn't blame her. The grounds, unlike the endless green fields stretching every which way, and the tall, spindly trees catching dark shadows over the path to the main building at Gilbert's home, were quite peaceful in comparison. Replacing the infinite green seas, the Zwingli mansion had definite boundaries, with warm-looking yellow stones covered with flowers of every color. There were no trees along the path, but in tiny groves farther off, the trees in full bloom. Along the path instead were tiny bushes with yet more flowers.

Bees flitted among the flowers, busily collecting nectar. In the closest grove to them, Gilbert could see a colony of squirrels amongst the trees. As they passed it, he could have sworn that he even saw a deer hiding in the grove. For all intents and purposes, this place appeared nothing short of a paradise.

Too bad he didn't plan on staying here very long. He was going to bring Elizaveta back to her senses and escape back to his own country with her. Luddy was no doubt already worried.

Unfortunately, thinking back on Elizaveta's fiercely protective manner over the twig-girl, convincing her to run away with him wasn't going to be easy. Hopefully being around a childhood friend would help cure whatever insanity this place had given her.

Once they reached the front doors, Elizaveta opened them and stepped aside to allow Elise to enter first. The girl, forgetting about Gilbert in her delight of being home, dropped the chain and skipped inside.

"Big brother, I'm home! Big brother!" she called.

A man who looked strikingly like a taller, male version of Elise rounded the corner. His eyes locked on Elise, and immediate relief smoothed over the worry lines on his face.

"Oh, Elise, I was worried that you were attacked while you were out. I definitely should have gone with you. It was idiotic for mother and father to allow you to go out with only Elizaveta and a few attendants," he said as he approached them.

Elise giggled. "You worry too much, big brother. My slave protected me," she said happily.

The man's eyes slid up to fix on Gilbert. Immediately, they narrowed, as if to ward off a dangerous invader.

"No. Take him back. I want him out of this house and away from my daughter," he commanded through gritted teeth.

Elise looked stricken. "B—but, big brother… He saved mine and Elizaveta's life," she said in a quiet voice.

He spun around, unwilling to see the hurt look on his precious little sister's face. "Then free him in exchange! I'm sure a slave would like that!" he huffed.

Gilbert had mixed feelings about the man's demand. Yes, he'd be free, but it'd be difficult to rescue Elizaveta as well if he wasn't actually _with_ her. He set his jaw, maintaining his silence. There's no way he'd be able to stay and complete his self-appointed mission if he voiced his desire to remain at the Zwingli mansion.

It was Elizaveta that spoke up for him. "Mr. Vash, wait," she said in a surprisingly authoritative voice.

Back at Gilbert's home, a slave for servant speaking to the masters of the house would be beaten or whipped, or given some form of horrible torture. He flinched when the master, Vash, turned around sharply, expecting him to backhand Elizaveta.

Then his head spun when he saw the impassive look on Vash's face.

"What is it, Elizaveta?" Although Vash retained a strong jaw, there was a hint of meekness in his voice that baffled Gilbert.

What was going on here?

"What kind of slave were me and Miss Elise to look for?" she asked.

Vash dropped his eyes to the floor. "One to protect her, of course," he said, before forcing himself to look back up at her.

Elizaveta nodded. "And hasn't this slave already begun to serve that exact purpose?"

The man gritted his teeth, obviously not liking Elizaveta's cutting logic. "Yes, I suppose he has." He glanced at Gilbert again with obvious distrust. Gilbert scowled back, earning himself an icy glare. "I don't trust him. He'll definitely turn out like…" Vash appeared to have difficulty continuing. "… like the other one."

Gilbert watched as Elizaveta's determined visage softened. She stepped closer to Vash and wrapped her arms around him, much like a mother would to soothe a frightened child.

"He won't, I can promise you that much. I trust him," Elizaveta said softly.

Vash pulled away, composing himself. "I see. I have always trusted your instincts, and this will be no exception." He turned to his younger sister. "You may keep your new slave."

Elise brightened up. She threw herself at her brother, hugging him tight. "Oh, thank you, thank you, big brother! You won't regret it! You'll see when you get back from the fighting!" she exclaimed.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. So this man was actually old enough to be drafted. Huh, he certainly didn't look like it. However, Gilbert was glad that he was, because Vash was someone that Gilbert already hated. Everything would be so much easier with him gone.

Vash awkwardly pat Elise on the head, obviously uncomfortable with the physical contact. "Yes, yes, well… Happy birthday again, Elise. I hope that _slave_ does his job right," he said, shooting another glare at Gilbert. Gilbert glared defiantly back.

Elise gave her brother a sweet smile. "Don't worry about me, big brother. I'll definitely be fine," she said.

He nodded as she ended the embrace. "I hope so." Fixing an awkward smile onto his face, he offered her his arm. "Well, shall we go help mother finish the preparations for your party?"

Her face shone with excitement as she took his arm. "Yes, of course!" she said delightedly.

Vash looked over his shoulder at Elizaveta. "Make sure the slave is presentable by the time the guests arrive. They'll definitely want to see who my little sister chose as her first personal slave."

Elizaveta smiled and did a small curtsey. "Of course, Mr. Vash. Leave everything to me," she said.

As the siblings rounded the corner, Gilbert inwardly smirked. This was the perfect opportunity to get rid of whatever brainwashing they did to his dear friend. And he was not going to mess this up.


	5. Chapter 5

** Sorry about my absence. I really want to write, but there's either writer's block, or I'm busy. Ironically, I think once I go to college there'll be more time to write. Just, it's hard to get around my parents right now.**

** Anyway, please let me know if I write something that doesn't make sense or contradicts something I wrote in earlier chapters.**

Once the two were left alone, Elizaveta cast a critical gaze at Gilbert. The former soldier felt uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. She tapped her chin in thought, her eyes travelling over his shape, making mental notes. The longer they stood there, the more self-aware Gilbert became. He tugged at his battered clothing, tried to smooth out his wild hair.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and decided to jump right in with convincing Elizaveta to run away with him. "Hey, Lizzy…" he began uncertainly.

"This is no good!" she huffed impatiently, crossing her arms across her chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Gilbert was amazed at how Elizaveta's torn dress stayed in place, keeping his childhood friend's modesty.

Mostly, though, Gilbert was surprised at her outburst. He blinked several times. "Um, what's no good?"

"You're too bit. I mean, you're really thin, but _these_!" She lightly slapped his biceps, shaking her head in disgust. "They're much too big. I don't know _how_ we're supposed to get a suit that fits. We really should have done that while we were in the town." The woman frowned, biting her lip. "How could I forget something so important? This is terrible!"

This side of Elizaveta was… strange to him. He rubbed his arms. His muscles were the perfect size, not too big like Elizaveta said. Nonetheless… he supposed he had to console Elizaveta for… whatever she was freaking out over.

"Um, it's… it's ok?" Gilbert said uncertainly.

That was the wrong thing to say. Elizaveta shot him a glare. "No, it is _not _fine, Gilbert. What are you supposed to wear to the party tonight? You can't go looking like _that_," she said, indicating his ruined clothing.

Gilbert paled. Elizaveta nodded, misunderstanding his reaction. "Exactly. Now come on, we'll see if the master has any suits that you may borrow." She took his arm and began to lead him down the hall.

His brain had all but stopped running. An unpleasant mixture of feelings—horror, mortification, nausea—knotted up his stomach. He wasn't worried about being seen in his present state, as Elizaveta apparently thought he was, but about being seen as what he _now_ was. A slave. A dog. Something worthless, replaceable. It wounded his pride to think that others would see him as inferior.

He wasn't, though! Gilbert would bet his life that he would be able to take on the entire party single-handed, without any sort of weapons. Because Gilbert Bielschmidt was a top-notch soldier of his beloved country!

Except a real top-notch soldier wouldn't allow himself to be captured alive.

Gilbert frowned, dropping his head to stare blankly at the ground as they walked. Perhaps… Perhaps he wasn't such a top-notch soldier after all. He was captured. He was alive. He was a _slave_ for the _enemy_.

He didn't deserve to live like this.

Sunken into his thoughts, he didn't notice that they entered a large room, or that Elizaveta left him standing while she went through another door. He didn't realize what was going on until Elizaveta began tugging off his clothes.

Gilbert jumped back, a blush jumping to his cheeks. "L—Lizzy! What are you doing?" he stammered, confused and shocked at Elizaveta's forwardness.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a baby. I'm just changing you into more suitable clothes," she retorted, closing the distance to continue her work.

He could feel his face burning. "I can dress myself," he said.

"I highly doubt it. This is _you_ we're talking about," she told him.

There it was, the Elizaveta he remembered from their childhood. The reason he stubbornly refused to die, even when death would be more honorable than living. He laughed.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you alright? I just insulted you. You realize that, right?"

It took all of Gilbert's control to stop laughing. He was just so relieved to have her back—_his_ Elizaveta, not some brainwashed slave that she'd become in this godforsaken country. "You're just… You haven't changed at all. Still awesome. Not as awesome as me, of course, but as awesome as a normal human can be."

For a few moments, she stared at him, face blank. Then, a tiny smile curled her lips upward. She giggled softly. "You haven't changed at all either."

The two lapsed into silence, as Gilbert reluctantly allowed Elizaveta to change his clothes. He wasn't too fond of the idea of his friend seeing him in his underwear, but it was probably better just to deal with it.

She allowed him to pull on long black slacks as she buttoned up the ruffled white dress shirt, ignoring his complaints that it was too girly and not manly at all. Gilbert secured the button only with great difficulty. The clothes felt just a fraction too tight. Whoever they belong to must be weak as hell, Gilbert thought, sucking in his stomach as best as he good.

Elizaveta giggled at the pained look on his face. "Tight?" she asked.

He nodded, cautiously letting out his breath. "Uh-huh," he groaned.

She nodded. "I thought so. The master isn't the most muscular man in the world, but he's closer than Mr. Vash and the other servants, so it'll have to do. Here, this jacket will be a little tight as well."

Gilbert helped her pull the suit jacket over his arms, frowning thoughtfully. "Lizzy…" he began uncertainly. He wasn't sure how to approach the subject. Elizaveta just seemed so unusually fond of these slave owners.

Elizaveta tugged at the clothing, trying to make it fit properly. "Hmm?" she hummed absently, deft fingers doing up the buttons.

"Let's run away."

She paused for the briefest of moments, her brows furrowed down. Her face wiped clean the next second, but not before Gilbert noticed. "You could have run when we were in the carriage," she said quietly, stepping back to look over Gilbert's formal attire.

"I want you to run away with me, Lizzy." He grabbed her hand with both of his own. "Won't you? Right now, we can just go. We'll get back to our own country. I'll protect you if anyone tries to harm you, and when we there I can get rid of this damn collar."

She pulled out of his grasp, looking away. "I can't do that, Gil," she said softly. "Come on, let's go see if the master approves of your appearance."

Gilbert growled in frustration. "Why won't you, Lizzy? We can go home! To our friends and family." He felt a growing sense of desperation. Her expression told him that she wasn't about to change her mind. "You can see Roderich again. Scheiße, Lizzy, come _with me_."

Roderich's name had the effect he was looking for. She closed her eyes, face drawn. He felt bad for bringing up what must be painful memories, but if it got her to run away with him, then it was worth it.

It was useless, though. Eyes still shut tight, Elizaveta shook her head. "No, Gil. You don't understand. This _is_ my home. I can't just go back. There's nowhere for me to live."

No, no, _no_. He couldn't lose Elizaveta again. "You can live with me! Or Roderich. Weren't you going to marry him? Why would you rather be a _slave_?" he asked, unable to cover up the frustration and hurt in his voice.

She gave him a sad smile. "Gilbert, I'm not a slave. This has been my family since I was just seven. The master saved me."

"But, Lizzy—"

"Enough! We've wasted too much time. There are things to do today. Let's go, now," she commanded, forceful enough to shut Gilbert up. She turned and calmly left the room, not even checking to see if Gilbert was following her.

There was nothing to do then. Of course, that didn't mean he was going to give up. He'd wait a while, find out exactly what was keeping her here, and then breaking that bond. Because no matter how nice these people were, she couldn't just deny that she was a slave.

He hurried to catch up to her. As he meandered along behind her, he watched her walk. She stood straight, her stride conveying the utmost confidence in herself, despite her disheveled appearance. She pushed her hair back over her shoulders. That was when Gilbert saw it.

It was true, then. Elizaveta wasn't a slave. Her neck was bare, missing the collar that marked her as property, as a slave of this country.

What happened all those years ago?

They came to a pair of large ornate doors. Elizaveta twisted the large golden handles and pushed through. Gilbert followed her, expecting some large, dignified room, like many nobles were fond of using for parties and dinners and dances. He would know, his family was full of those types of nobles.

He stopped in his tracks upon stepping inside the room, jaw dropped.

It wasn't what he was expecting at all. Instead of mellow, elegant colors that were so common at social events, he was assaulted with all sorts of bright, eye-catching colors. Colorful globes of air (balloons, he learned after) drifted over the long table. Long lengths of thin paper—bright pinks and blues twined around each other—hung over every shining candle stick, many of the chairs, and were even tied to some of the balloons. Elizaveta later told him they were called streamers. Gilbert called them dangerous.

Even the tablecloth was colorful, a white background with various colored polka dots covering the horrid thing.

Elizaveta smiled at his reaction. "Like the room?" she asked teasingly.

"It's awful. It looks like a unicorn was sick all over the place. Or some weird alien pastry cat pranced about shooting rainbows at everything," he replied.

She frowned, confused. "A… A what?"

"Don't worry about it. It was just something awesome," he told her.

"Ah, Elizaveta! Welcome home," a man's voice called from across the room.

The pair turned to see an older couple crossing over to them. Both of them looked creepily like Vash and Elise, except older and with wrinkles. The woman was tiny, just as bird-like as the little twig-girl, her long straw-colored hair tied up in a high bun with navy blue ribbon. Unlike Elise, however, there was no dreamy gaze. This woman—the mistress of the house, Gilbert presumed—had sharp eyes and a no-nonsense line for a mouth.

The man whose arm she held onto, however, was the complete opposite. His blond hair was too long, longer than Vash's, and tied back into one of those ridiculously girly ponytails (Francis called it fashion, Gilbert called it gay). He wore one of those secretive smiles, the kind that gave the impression that a person knew something no one else knew, even if it was nothing at all. Like Elizaveta said, although he was just as tall as Gilbert, there was little to no muscle on this man.

Gilbert decided that he was going to hate these people.

Elizaveta gave an awkward curtsey, obviously trying to hide her ruined dress. "Thank you very much sir, madam. Good to be home."

The woman's sharp eyes caught Elizaveta's dress right away. "Elizaveta! Your dress!" she exclaimed.

Elizaveta shifted her weight, looking down shyly. "Yes, I was just about to go change. We ran into some… trouble," she said.

The man nodded grimly as his wife cast a worried glance over at her daughter, who stood at the table admiring the floral centerpiece. "Ah, yes, Elise told us about it. I should have gone with you. My dear girls in danger like that, if something had happened…" His smile disappeared, replaced by a deep, worried frown.

"But we're fine! Gilbert here risked his life to protect us," Elizaveta said, smiling at her friend fondly.

The two turned there attention to Gilbert, the man grateful and the woman a strange mixture of grateful and critical.

"Thank you very much… Gilbert, correct?" He nodded in confirmation.

"The clothes don't fit him. Did you not take him to the tailor, Elizaveta?" the woman asked, looking over her daughter's new slave.

"Ah, no I didn't, ma'am. Sorry," Elizaveta apologized, keeping her eyes trained on the ground.

Before the woman could scold her, the master of the household spoke up. "No matter now. Everyone is home safely, and we can finish the preparations for the party," he said.

Although the woman looked as if she had more to say, she let it drop. "Very well. Elizaveta, go change into something more appropriate, and throw out that ruined dress. And you, slave," she nodded at Gilbert as Elizaveta scurried away. "My name is Annabelle Swingli. You will refer to me as Lady Swingli, Mistress, ma'am, or madam. Is that clear?"

Gilbert gritted his teeth. If it were any other situation, he'd knock out whoever spoke to him in that way, girl or not. With great effort, he swallowed down his pride. "Yes, ma'am," he forced himself to say.

The difficulty he found in replying was not lost of Annabelle. She gave a terse nod. "Good. You will do well to remember. You may be my daughter's personal slave, and she may not care what you call her, but you will treat me with respect or be punished."

"Now, now, dear. Don't scare the man who saved our daughter's and Elizaveta's lives!" her husband said, patting her shoulder gently.

"I'm not scared," Gilbert said before he could stop himself.

Annabelle shot him a glare. She opened her mouth to no doubt reprimand him for disrespecting her husband, but her words were covered by the man's booming laugh.

"Of course not! This is the man who took on two bandits on his own! A fighting man. I like you, Gilbert," he said, slapping him on the back good-naturedly.

"William, you shouldn't be so friendly with the slave," Annabelle warned.

"Nonsense, dear. Elizaveta used to be a slave, and now she's part of the family. And if she approves of Gilbert, then I welcome him with open arms!" William Swingli declared.

"But—," she began to protest.

He cut her off. "Come now, Annabelle. Let's go see how the food is coming along. And perhaps sample it ourselves," he said with a wink.

Despite herself, Annabelle's expression softened into a smile. "Very well, but you won't be eating most of the food like last time," she warned.

"Would I really do something like that?" he asked, indignant as he and his wife walked toward a smaller side door that Gilbert assumed was the kitchen.

"Yes, you would," she told him. Then they went through the door and he couldn't hear any more of the conversation.

Elise skipped over to him, smiling brightly. "Isn't it wonderful? Tonight's going to be so fun!" she exclaimed, turning in a slow circle, arms stretched like she wanted to embrace the whole room and the decorations within.

Gilbert didn't share her love of the room. He thought this much color would make the guests physically sick, like it was doing to him. Pretending that he didn't have the giant migraine that was forming from the bright room, he shrugged. "Ja, sure," he said.

She looked up at him expectantly. It unnerved Gilbert a bit to have her staring at him like that. He didn't know what she expected him to say. "What?" he asked finally, inching away.

"Did you ever go to parties in your own country? Before you were captured?" she asked.

So she did know about war prisoners becoming slaves in the enemy country. He half expected her to be completely in the dark about that policy, as innocent as she seemed.

"Not really. Parties weren't my thing. Not awesome enough," he replied.

"What'd you do for fun then?"

He couldn't stop a giant grin from splitting over his face. "You don't want to know," he said, thinking about all the fun times he'd had with Francis and Antonio.

She blinked, looking confused. "Why not?"

Suddenly the collar felt heavy and cold against his neck. "You… You just don't," he said, looking away. Verdammt, he wasn't going to get all emotional now, in front of this little bird-girl.

Luckily for him, the bird-girl seemed to pick up on the mood. She touched his arm and smiled. "I won't ask anymore, alright? The party tonight will be fun, for sure. A magician is coming," she said, excitement growing as she spoke.

Gilbert laughed. "A magician? Sorry to break it to you, birdy, but magic doesn't exist. He's a fake," he said.

Elise shook her head so vigorously that her hair escaped her careful braids. "No, this is _real_! You'll see when he comes!" She paused, and then frowned slightly, bemused. "Birdy?"

He grinned. "A nickname. Hope you like it." Because Gilbert would be using it a lot, especially if she didn't like it.

Surprisingly, she returned the smile. "I do."


End file.
